To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(76)

“Brave, my sweet wife.” Jasper brushed his lips across her cheek. “Pynch, light some candles for her ladyship, and then we’ll have this fine fellow give us a tour.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mr. Pynch lit four candles—all the room held—from his lantern and the men left.

Melisande listened to their retreating footsteps and then shivered and looked around her. She was in a kind of sitting room, but it wasn’t very pleasant. Here and there were groupings of chairs—very old and very ugly. The carved wood ceiling was terribly high, and the candlelight didn’t entirely pierce the dark overhead. Melisande thought she saw wisps of old spiderwebs hanging down. The walls were also of dark, carved wood and had been decorated by stuffed animal heads—several moth-eaten deer, a badger, and a fox. Their glass eyes were eerie in the gloom.

Shaking herself, she walked determinedly to the great gray stone fireplace at the room’s far end. It was obviously very old—probably older than all the carved wood paneling—and entirely black inside. She found a box by the side containing a few sticks and one log, which she carefully placed inside the fireplace, trying not to think of spiders. Mouse came over to see what she was about, but he soon wandered off again to investigate the shadows.

Melisande stood and brushed off her hands. She searched the mantelpiece and finally found a jar of dusty tapers. She lit one from a candle and held it to the sticks, but the sticks wouldn’t catch, and the taper soon burned down. Melisande reached for ƒde ofanother taper and was just about to light it when Mouse barked.

She started and turned. A man stood behind her, tall and dark and lean, his shoulder-length hair hanging tangled about his face. He was looking at Mouse, standing at his feet, but at Melisande’s movement, he turned his head to her. The left side of his face was twisted with scars, lit awfully by the flickering candles, and the eye socket on that side was sunken and empty.

Melisande dropped the taper.

MUNROE’S MANSERVANT WAS telling them that he hadn’t any clean linens in the entire manor, and Jasper was about to shake the man in frustration when he heard Mouse bark. He looked at Pynch, and without a word, they turned and ran back down the dark, twisting stairs. Jasper cursed. He should never have left Melisande alone.

Outside the sitting room, Jasper paused to approach silently. Mouse hadn’t barked again since that first time. Jasper peered in the room. Melisande stood at the far end, her back to the fireplace. Mouse was in front of her, legs stiff, but he was silent. And facing both of them was a big man in leather gaiters and an old hunting coat.

Jasper stiffened.

Munroe turned and Jasper couldn’t help but flinch. When last he’d seen the man, his wounds were raw and bleeding. Time had healed the wounds that covered the left side of his face, scarred them over, but it hadn’t made them any prettier.

“Renshaw,” Munroe rasped. His voice had always been husky, but after Spinner’s Falls, it had taken on a broken quality, as if damaged by his screams. “But you’re Vale now, aren’t you? Lord Vale.”

“Yes.” Jasper moved into the room. “This is my lady wife, Melisande.”

Munroe nodded, though he didn’t turn back around to acknowledge her. “I believe I wrote you not to come.”

“I received no missive,” Jasper said honestly.

“Some might take that as an unwelcoming sign,” Munroe said dryly.

“Would they?” Jasper took a deep breath to control the anger surging in his breast. He owed Munroe much—things he could never repay—but this involved Munroe too. “But, then, the matter I come on is most pressing. We need to talk about Spinner’s Falls.”

Munroe’s head reared back as if he’d been hit in the face. He stared at Jasper, his light hazel eye hooded and unreadable.

Finally he nodded once. “Very well. But it’s late, and your lady is no doubt tired. Wiggins will show you some rooms. I do not promise comfort, but they can be made warm. In the morning we will talk. Then you can leave.”

“I have your word?” Jasper asked. He wouldn’t put it past Munroe to simply disappear and stay away until they were gone.

The side of Munroe’s mouth kicked up. “My word. I will talk to you on the morrow.”

Jasper nodded. “I am grateful.”

Munroe shrugged and walked out of the room. Thƒof "3"e little red-haired man—presumably Wiggins—had been lurking about the doorway, and now he said grudgingly, “I ’spose I can make th’ fire in your rooms.”

He turned and left without another word.

Jasper blew out a breath and looked at Pynch. “Can you look to settling the other servants? See if there’s anything to eat in the kitchens and find them rooms.”

“Yes, my lord,” Pynch said, and departed.

And that left Jasper with his lady wife. He turned reluctantly to look at her. She still stood in front of the fireplace. Any other woman might be in hysterics by now. Not Melisande.

She stared back at him levelly and said, “What happened at Spinner’s Falls?”

SALLY SUCHLIKE CAREFULLY spread the hot coals with a poker and then hung a kettle from the big hook in the fireplace. It was a huge fireplace, the biggest Sally had ever seen. Big enough for a grown man to walk into and stand upright. What anyone wanted with such a big fireplace, she didn’t know. It was harder to work with than a nice, normal-sized one.